


(Re)Visit

by die_traumerei



Series: Home is the Soldier [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Injury, M/M, Multi, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, lots of alternate universes actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-13 18:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To say thank you for getting 400 followers on Tumblr (and to scratch my own itch about this), I'm revisiting many of/most of my fics and universes in 400(ish) word ficlets. Each chapter's title refers to the story or series it is linked to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And Love, That Sleepeth There, Will Keep Thee Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Just a wee thank you, to everyone who follows me on Tumblr and otherwise actually enjoys my writing! I am a little bit in awe that there are so many of you :)
> 
> I will be adding chapters as I have time/as I write them, so expect at least a few updates over the next few days/weeks. Not every story is going to get a chapter, but most of them will, starting with the first ever Steve/Bucky fanfic I ever wrote, after a bout of insomnia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original story can be read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1984764).

Bucky loves sex.

Like _really_ loves it. Always has. Never one to turn down a quick fuck, or a slow one, or a suckjob or anything else really. He loves the rush of feeling, loves making someone else come, _really_ loves his own orgasms.

And then he and Steve started having sex, and it was like...this whole other plane of wonderfulness. Giant comfy beds because the future's pretty cool, pillows everywhere to support hips and backs and legs so they can get as creative as they like for as long as they like. And it's sex with someone who loves him, and who he loves back, and that makes it all the more awesome in every way.

Bucky used to be all about the sex, and he still is! Definitely still is! But now he is, secretly, a little more about the afterglow. After they're both fucked out and Steve wraps around him and they kiss. After the sweat cools and they lie together, peaceful and happy – that's Bucky's favorite time now.

He's in that sweet, happy place right now; after everything, did he ever really believe he'd be this content? Well, he is. He's in love and fucked out and half-asleep while Steve somehow still has the energy to lift Bucky's left forearm and hand and press kisses to the hundreds of metal plates that make up his arm now.

“What're you up to?” Bucky mumbled, squinting at Steve. This man is incapable of holding still, Bucky remembers. It's a miracle he survived the war.

“Kissing you.”

Bucky smiles. “You like to make your point fifty times over, doncha?”

“Uh huh.” Steve presses his mouth to the inside of Bucky's wrist. Bucky can feel it.

“You enjoyin' yourself?”

Steve takes a break to kiss Bucky's bare belly. “Yes.”

“Go for it then, kid,” Bucky mumbles, letting his eyes slip shut. Steve can do whatever he damn well pleases, if Bucky can take a nap.

Steve's smiling against the metal plates; he can just about feel it, as he drops off.


	2. Steve and Bucky are Awesome At The Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much a direct continuation from the end of the story, which can be read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2106798).

“Ready to go home?” Steve asks with a grin, and Bucky practically injures himself, he nods so quickly. He's been in the hospital in Philadelphia for three days now, barely able to move, but finally, _finally_ , his internal organs and various other systems have sorted themselves out to the point where he can be safely moved to the Tower and finish recuperating first in the medbay there, then in his own glorious, comfortable, quiet bedroom.

(Bucky suspects it will not actually be all that quiet. He's had a roomful of Avengers every day he's been here, and they are not quiet people. He is  _not_ complaining, though.)

Everything moves quickly, on that day. Most of the team are packing up from their hotel stay, so he's got a few hours of peace. Tony's got a fleet of cars to drive everyone up, although Bucky and Steve will be traveling in style in a chopper with, Bucky is pretty sure, a small surgical suite somehow crammed in there just in case. He's still not allowed out of the hospital bed (and isn't entirely sure he can manage anything beyond sitting up on his own), so he  _really_ doesn't have to do anything but relax and hold Steve's hand while he's being taken up to the roof and carefully loaded into the 'copter.

Everyone is doing a very good job, considering they've got Captain America watching them like a hawk, and the nurse who has to put up with Steve helping settle Bucky even has a good sense of humor about it. Especially after Bucky catches her eye and mouths  _I'm so sorry_ .

The flight is short and comfortable, and the same can be said for getting settled on the other side. It's still a hospital room, but there are vast windows looking out over the city and he can get a change of clothes and he's  _home_ . And so are the other Avengers, soon enough. 

By that evening, Nat's curled up with him again and Pepper has commandeered a chair by his bed (evicting Steve with a single look), and Thor is telling stories while Clint builds a tower out of straws that are technically supposed to be Bucky's, but he's not complaining. Not when the room is big enough for everyone to fit comfortably and he gets to wear Steve's pajamas and, okay, he's still pretty broken and he won't see his own bed for another week, but he is  _definitely_ not complaining right now.

Especially not when everyone finally bids him goodnight, and welcome home, and sleep well, and he and Steve learn that the hospital beds here are big enough that Steve can just about wedge in beside him, and Bucky can fall asleep with his head on Steve's chest, his best friend kissing him and gently stroking his metal arm to soothe him to sleep.


	3. Home is the Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Home is the Soldier series can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/182000).

[e-mail text]

_Hi all!_

_You are cordially invited to our place on September 8_ _th_ _, for our 20_ _th_ _anniversary party. We'll have food and drink from 3 until the last person leaves; come for twenty minutes, come for six hours, whatever you want! Feel free to bring a dish or some other treat if you really want to; otherwise the only gift we need is your presence._

_Love you all,_

_Steve and Bucky_

 

[text conversation, Steve is  **in bold** and Bucky is  _ in italics _ ]

_Okay, I've got two cases of beer, one of wine, and a couple bottles of liquor. Think that'll suffice?_

**JESUS yes! Good grief**

_I'll drink the leftovers ;)_

**Lush**

_Not my fault, my husband drives me to it._

**Oh my God.**

_Anyway, I'll be home soon, should I pick anything else up while I've got a car?_

**Nah, food's getting delivered and we're set for everything else.**

_Cool. See you soon, love._

**:***

 

[A note left on the fridge]

_Stevie –_

_ VA counselling thing that I need to go to. Nasty stuff. I'll be home tonight, but don't wait up for me.  _

_xo Bucky_

_ ps I love you. I still can't believe you took me in, sight unseen, and it's  _ _ decades _ _ later. We have so much life together. _

 

[text conversation, Steve is  **in bold** and Bucky is  _ in italics _ ]

**Hey baby, I know you know self-care is important, so this is definitely not a reminder.**

**j/k it's totally a reminder to my soldier boy. You're such a good man, love. Remember, for me, that you're not that hurting, scared boy anymore.**

_I will always be that hurting, scared boy._

_But I also remember that I'm nearly fifty and I've got a husband and a life. And a self-care plan :)_

**Good. I love you. That pen-pal program is the best thing I've ever done.**

_Nah, that's writing a bestseller and teaching the whole country a little more about its own history. But I'm pretty glad you started writing to a lonely man far from home._

**The best thing I've ever done, Buck. Honest to God. How you doing?**

_Okay. This is a rough one._

**I'm sorry, sweetheart.**

_I'll be home in a few hours, so don't wait up._

**OK. Wake me up when you get in, so I can say hi?**

_Will do. Sleep well, Stevie._

**Be good to yourself, Buck.**


	4. Sing Me Home To My Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh, this story. THIS STORY.
> 
> This story is why I'm getting a winter soldier tattoo. So much of my own shit went into it, and reading it back now, almost two years after I wrote it in a fog of depression and confusion and rage....I used to dislike it a lot, and now I love it. So much.
> 
> Warning for a very short, vague mention of self-harm, and Bucky's past abusive relationship.
> 
> The original story can be read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3242177/chapters/7064174).

Bucky stumbled in the front door and dropped his messenger bag off on the hat rack that Steve had trash-picked. It was incredibly useful and actually really pretty and he would keel over and die before admitting that aloud.

Sixteen hours, he'd been at work, getting a project prepped for a competition. Sixteen hours, and fourteen the day before, and sixteen the day before that, but it was done and he was home, even if it was nearly midnight.

No lie; he'd kind of hoped he would come home to his husband having made dinner and set aside a plate for him, maybe waiting up for him so they could have a little cuddle on the sofa after Bucky ate. He had  _definitely_ fantasized about Steve stripping him down and lighting a few candles and massaging every knot about of his back, then having another little cuddle before drifting off and sleeping for a good twenty hours or so.

The apartment was dark and quiet, though, and there was a note taped to the mirror by the front door.

_Having a bad day. Hiding in the bedroom. Sorry. xo_

Oh, ouch. Steve had been moderately busy with work, and it had helped stave off the worst of the depression, or at least eliminated most of one of Steve's triggers. Between Bucky, the VA and work, it was easier to not feel worthless. His depression had lessened, but wouldn't ever completely go away.

Bucky kicked his boots off and headed for their bedroom. He was too exhausted to eat, anyway. Sleep first.

He slipped quietly into their bedroom and blinked at the low light. Steve was awake, sitting up in bed with his book, and he looked up and smiled when Bucky flopped facedown on the bed.

“Jesus, you've had a long day.”

“Tell me about it.” Bucky yawned and squirmed into Steve's arms, forcing him to put his book down and not ashamed of it in the least. “God, I'm exhausted.”

“Baby, you work way, way too hard,” Steve chided gently. “I'm serious. You're going to make yourself sick.”

Bucky gave a protesting whine. “Won't. Just had to get this project done. 'm lazy, really.”

“Love, you know that's not true,” Steve said softly, and kissed him. “That was Brock fucking with you.”

Bucky sighed. “Sorry. That's two of us having a rough day, I guess.”

“I'm sorry.” 

“Me too.”

Bucky smiled at Steve. “We're a pair, aren't we?”

“Pretty much.” Steve rubbed Bucky's back and made a face. “You, into PJ's and into bed. You're one giant tension headache waiting to happen.”

“You're not even kidding.” Bucky yawned and got up to get changed, shamelessly stealing one of Steve's t-shirts to sleep in. “How you feeling, babydoll?”

“Ew, Buck, that's gross even for you.” Steve marked the page and set his book aside. “Not great. I had to leave work after lunch. Took the emergency meds but...yeah. Pretty much been hiding here all day.” He bit his lip. “The kitchen's a mess, still. I'm sorry.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Bucky asked.

“No!”

“Did you want to?”

Steve was quiet for a little bit. “Not really, I guess. Just couldn't deal with doing anything.”

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and took Steve's face in his hands and kissed him. “Did you talk to someone?”

“Uh huh.”

“Leaving me a note doesn't count.”

Steve even smiled at that. “I talked.”

“Good. I'm proud of you. Not hurting yourself, and talking, and taking care of yourself are worth more than cleaning the kitchen any day.” And worth more than some stupid fantasy your husband was having, for that matter. Bucky was home and could go to sleep soon, and he had his baby. Everything else was irrelevant, times like these.

“Get into bed and go to sleep, Buck. Speaking of taking care of yourself.”

Bucky laughed and got up, hitting the lights as he walked to his side of the bed and crawled in beside Steve. “Steve, heart of my heart. You're the light of my life, but if you wake me up for anything less than my hair actively being on fire, I will kill you.”

“Fair enough,” Steve said, and elected himself big spoon, snuggling into Bucky's back and slipping his hand over top of Bucky's. Bucky could just about feel the hard press of Steve's wedding ring on the back of his prosthetic hand, and he touched his thumb to the matching ring he wore – on his right hand, so he could always feel it. And then he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeebus, for someone who doesn't particularly believe in marriage, I got a lot of my characters figuring out seating plans, you know?


	5. Figurative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Figurative verse can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/454582).

Steve regarded the body at his feet. At least it was alive, which was a change for him, lately.

“Hi!” the man said cheerfully, and pushed himself up off of the carpeted hallway floor. Steve noticed, a little startled, that he only had one arm – his left arm ended a few inches beyond his shoulder, well above where his elbow would have been. He moved easily, though, clearly used to it. “Sorry, can you help me up? I'm kind of very drunk.”

Steve laughed, surprised at himself, and bent down to haul the man to his feet. He was slim, about Steve's own height, and heartbreakingly beautiful. “Are you, uh, visiting someone?”

“Nope!” the man told him brightly. “I live here! In 119A”

“Oh. Uh, I'm just upstairs from you, then,” Steve said, starting to walk him down the hall. 119A couldn't have walked in a straight line if you'd paid him.

“Cool. Oh. Oh, shit, you're Captain America.” The man squinted. “Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me,” Steve said, and he wasn't. He was cute, and kind of funny. “Here we are. I'll just make sure you get in all right, okay?”

The man nodded enthusiastically. “Thanks. I'm really not supposed to drink,” he confided, leaning in conspiratorially, and basically falling into Steve's arms again.

“You gonna be okay?” Steve asked, a little alarmed.

“Oh, _yeah_ ,” the guy slurred, starting to hunt through his messenger bag. “I was just celebratin' my friend's birthday and just...” He looked at Steve, suddenly still and seemingly dead sober. “You ever do something you're not supposed to, just to remember that it's _your_ life and _your_ body, and damn the consequences?”

Steve swallowed hard. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” the man agreed, and grunted, and dumped his bag upside down. “Where are my damn _keys_?” 

Steve lowered them both to the ground, helping him look through the pile.

“So _anyway_ ,” the guy continued. “'m not s'posed to drink. I got less mass than most people, as you can see, so I get drunk _fast_. 'n I got brain damage from the accident, so 's not a good idea to fuck my brain up _more_.” He looked darkly at the floor for a moment. “Not that it matters. 'm all fucked up. Can't remember shit. 'n I lost my keys. _Shit_.”

“Hey,” Steve said softly. “It's okay – uh. What's your name?”

“Oh. Bucky.”

“It's okay, Bucky. Come up to my place. You can sleep it off and get the super to let you in in the morning or something.”

“I can't bother you that much,” Bucky said, looking genuinely horrified. “No, dude, seriously, I'll sleep it off in the hallway or somethin', y'already helped a lot.”

“Don't be dumb,” Steve said. “Come on up. You'll sleep better on not the floor.”

Bucky grinned at him, sudden and open, sloppy and beautiful. “Kay. Thank you.”

Steve grinned back, and helped him shove everything back in his bag and haul him to his feet. “C'mon, Bucky. Let's get you into bed.”

Bucky giggled, and leaned heavily into Steve's side as the headed for the elevators. “Yeah. Let's go to bed.”


	6. Read Me Like a Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original can be read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2014893).

“This is great!”

“No, it isn't,” Bucky said, from where he was sitting as far from Steve as he could get without actually leaving the room.

“Nah, he's right, it's pretty great,” Clint pointed out, and ate another potsticker.

“This is the best thing ever,” Steve announced to the universe at large, and he started in on the next paragraph.

When he had finished, Bucky rose out of the fetal position he'd fallen into. “I did not 'burn with jealousy' after you rescued me in Italy, for the record. Mostly I was just traumatized and confused.”

“You must've been a little jealous,” Clint pointed out.

Bucky stole a potsticker. “Well, yeah,” he said around a full mouth. “A little, for like ten minutes. Steve was a big ol' war hero 'n' didn't need me anymore.”

“Bucky, you know that's not true,” Steve said quickly, putting the paperback – a 70's-era novelization of Bucky's life that someone had found and sent along to Steve, to Steve's eternal gratitude and delight – aside, and reaching for Bucky's hands.

“Well, yeah, about twenty minutes after we got back to camp, I figured out you could barely tie your shoes by yourself, let alone lead my squadron,” Bucky said, but he didn't pull his hands away. “And anyway...not to be a dick, but I had bigger things to worry about than you, y'know?”

“I know,” Steve said softly. “I should've worried about the same things.” He leaned over and kissed Bucky's fingertips.

“Aren't you gonna tell him he's gross?” Bucky asked Clint desperately.

“Nah. It's kinda sweet,” Clint said, and Bucky sighed. “Steve, go back to reading, I wanna see how much worse it gets.”

“So much worse,” Steve said, clearly delighted. _“So_ much worse.”

 

When Steve finally stopped reading aloud (right before the train, Bucky noted a little gratefully; he would already have an emotional Steve to deal with that night), they had to pull Bucky out from where he was hiding under the coffee table, and Clint thanked them both extravagantly for the delightful evening.

“I was jealous of you,” Bucky said without preamble, as they got ready for bed. “Not for long, but...yeah. A little. You had this gorgeous woman, and this gorgeous body and you didn't really need me to punch guys for you, y'know?”

“Yeah, Buck. 'Cause that's all you ever were for me,” Steve said, a little annoyed, as he climbed under the covers.

“Well, I didn't fuckin' know that at the time,” Bucky replied, frustrated. He _had_ been jealous, and hurt, and scared. Terrified, actually, of what was happening in his body, of why everything felt hot and fast and wrong, and his best friend was _definitely_ all wrong, and also definitely would have been just fine if Bucky had died on that table.

Bucky was aware that his past self was a dumbass, but he was also pretty big on feeling his feelings.

“You got any doubts these days?” Steve asked, folding his arms.

“You would literally be crushed to death under a pile of unwashed dishes without me around, so...”

“Oh, c'mere you asshole,” Steve said, and grabbed Bucky close. Bucky wrestled back, and it was nothing to start making out from there.


	7. Sing Home and Be Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The series this is a part of can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/225527).

“Hey. I got you some matzo ball soup,” Steve said. He was grinning dopily at Bucky.

He did that a lot. It was...adorable. Precious. Mildly annoying sometimes – Bucky was _fine_ , Jesus. The pneumonia had cleared up and okay, so he was a little on the thin, pathetic, broke-down side, but there was no excuse for such things.

And there was no need for Steve to go out and get him special food, and smile at him slow and wide and a little like he'd just suffered a head injury, but he did, and Bucky admittedly really loved matzo ball soup.

“Thanks,” he said softly, and made to get up to ladle it into a bowl, but Steve waved him off. (And Bucky was a little glad of it – his head still swam when he stood for too long most of the time.)

After having the single largest bowl of soup in existence set in front of him – portion sizes may have increased but this was ridiculous – Steve sat down next to him and leaned over for a soft, companionable kiss that Bucky was happy to give up. He didn't really get mixed up between Hydra and his new life, but the fact that Hydra had never made him lunch and delivered it with regular kisses kept him pretty firmly in his head.

“This is great,” Bucky said, after they'd both tucked in. 

“Yeah, the deli's awesome. I'll get you a bagel with lox and schmear next time?”

“Uh, yeah. Please. If it's not trouble.”

Oh, Jesus, he had to learn how to just ask for things like a slightly ruder person. Every time Bucky added 'as long as it's no trouble' or 'if you're sure you don't mind' or something like that to his request, Steve looked at him like he was a puppy dog covered in ice cream and doughnuts, and basically those stupid gigantic blue eyes got all wet and he assured Bucky that nothing was any trouble and it was just embarrassing for everyone.

Steve finished his whole bowl, but Bucky got halfway through before his stomach felt stretched and full. “How am I doing on calories, JARVIS?” he asked aloud. He really hoped he was close...

“You have consumed above the required amount for this meal, considering your feeding schedule. I would recommend saving the rest of the meal, and re-heating if you get hungry again before supper.”

Bucky grinned proudly, and Steve gave a little cheer. He was struggling to meet even the minimums he needed to hit, and for it to happen so easily – well. He didn't really deserve victories, but here was one.

“I'll put it away for you, honey. Go lie down and figure out something to watch,” Steve ordered, and gave him another kiss, because it had been like ten minutes without their faces attached to each other.

Bucky pulled up Netflix on the TV, but decided to make Steve pick from there. He was probably going to fall asleep soon anyway. He was so fucking useless – too ill to do anything useful, he still slept and ate for basically the entire day. Shit, he needed to get better  _fast_ , so he could be any good at all.

“Hey baby. You ever see Bob Ross?”

Bucky shook his head.

“You'll love it,” Steve said, and slid onto the sofa so that Bucky's head rested in his lap.

(Steve had not quite gotten the memo that Bucky was useless and, frankly, should probably be replaced by an affectionate cat.)

“Sleep, honey,” he murmured while Bucky drifted off like two minutes later. He was rubbing Bucky's stomach, and the man on the TV was very soothing and Bucky was full and...he was happy. So Bucky slept. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


	8. Close Your Eyes and Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Main story is [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7412629/chapters/16837612).

Steve tilted his head back and let himself float in the cool water. When he opened his eyes he could see stars and the rising moon, and when he closed them he could hear the soft sounds of the pool, and of the people moving around in it.

He smiled, feeling another body swim up beneath him. Scaly arms wrapped around his shoulders and a strong, smooth tail, almost pure muscle, curved up under his body, supporting his legs.

“Hi, baby,” Steve said with a smile.

Bucky giggled and kissed his neck. “How'd you know it was me?”

“I'm an old man now. No one else would want to hold me like this.

Bucky's laughter was soft and happy and filled Steve's whole body with warmth. “Yeah, you're totally over the hill, Mister One Hundred and Twenty-Seven.” He kissed Steve again. “Happy birthday, old man.”

Steve grinned and finally opened his eyes and turned his head. Bucky, mer-folk that he was, showed the years only slightly more than he did – strands of silver here and there shot through his hair, and there were a few more lines on his face, the sweet crow's-feet around his eyes a little deeper. “Hi,” he whispered, and they kissed again. It was Steve's birthday, and he was in a pool under New York's newly-crystal sky, and Avengers old and new and mer-folk and friends were all around him, and the fireworks would start soon. And he had his Bucky, the love of his last century of all the ones to come, at his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


	9. The Spider, The Soldier, and Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the series is [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/169496).

“Oh my God, you're actually watching for the Quinjet's lights, aren't you?” Bucky asked.

“Let he who is not tracking radar on his phone throw the first stone,” Nat said primly, turning around from where she'd been kneeling on the sofa.

“Um. I'm very paranoid?” Bucky tried. “Mental health mocking is off-limits?”

“You are, and it is, but you're also desperate to know the exact instant our boyfriend is back home,” Nat said, curling up against Bucky's side when he sat down beside her.

“You got me.” Bucky kissed her affectionately, then again. “You miss him too.”

“We haven't seen him in a month!” Steve had been deployed for an Avengers mission _weeks_ ago, while Nat and Bucky were stuck back in New York, recuperating from an earlier mission. Even Bucky had n't been able to wheedle anyone into letting him go back into battle. 

(The fact he'd been doing that from a hospital bed, barely mobile, might have had a role to play.)

And then, right after the mission – which Bucky and Nat were  _totally healed and ready for_ honest to God – he'd been sent on some goodwill tour for weeks. They'd Skyped with him, and had sent texts and e-mails and photos back and forth pretty well constantly, but it wasn't the same.

And now  _finally_ their Steve was coming home. A little eagerness was understandable.

So was taking a few minutes to make time with each other; Bucky gathering Nat into his lap easily, kisses deepening. She moved to straddle his thighs, arms around his neck while he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, his Nat, his beauty. As much as they loved Steve – and they loved him with all their hearts – this was just for them: sexual, adoring, a harder edge because they had had to be harder people.

Bucky was groaning as Nat nibbled and licked her way down his throat when the door to their apartment opened.

“Guys? Are you home?” came the tentative call.

“ _Steve!_ ” they yelled as one, and Bucky had no shame at all about practically dumping Nat on the floor. Especially not when she landed so lightly and used the energy to leap ahead of him.

Steve just barely knew what hit him, as Nat rocketed into his arms. “I get first hug!” she yelled gleefully.

“I get first kiss!” Bucky yelled back, and did.

“Gnuh?” Steve said, and shook his head and laughed. “Oh my God. I didn't even think you guy's'd be home...”

“Yeah, we definitely don't want to welcome our boyfriend home,” Bucky said, and kissed him again.

“My turn,” Nat informed him, and kissed Steve soundly, but sweetly. “Where else would we be, you giant idiot?”

“Um.” Steve smiled shyly. “I missed you. Both of you.”

“We missed you too,” Bucky said softly, and slipped into Steve's embrace, the two of them hugging tightly for just a moment. 

“C'mon in and get comfortable,” Natasha ordered, slipping her hand around Steve's waist and dragging him further into the apartment. “We already ate but there's leftovers if you're hungry.”

Bucky picked up Steve's bag and stowed it next to the laundry basket – it would all need washing anyway – while Nat heated up some food and Steve kept grinning at them, looking back and forth, amazed. The dimwit probably thought they had each other and he wasn't needed. Well, they had all weekend for cuddles and massages, kisses and long lie-ins, and all the ways they had to show Steve he was theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


	10. The Triple Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original series can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/341134).

“Hey, beautiful ones,” Bucky said, kissing Peggy and Steve in turn. “How are you both?”

“Not going to crap out on this date,” Steve said firmly, and kissed Bucky again for good measure.

“Extremely un-dramatic,” Peggy said cheerfully, and stole Bucky back for a hug. “How're you, sweetheart?”

“Wonderful. C'mon, everything's set up already.” Bucky took their hands in his, Peggy to the right and Steve to the left, and they entered Central Park. He led them along the winding paths, past sunlit fields and benches, into a cooler, more wooded area.

It was a relatively quick walk to a broad, sunlit glade, relatively uncrowded by Central Park standards. There was a picnic set up in a shaded corner, and Bucky dropped Peggy's hand to wave at a friend who had been watching the spot.

The friend waved back, and headed off after a quick round of hellos, and Bucky settled his dates.

What followed in the next few hours, Peggy and Steve later decided, was a 'picnic' the way Windsor Palace was 'a place to live'. After the slightly damp squib of their first date, Bucky pulled out all the stops.

There were _multiple courses_. There was a soft blanket to sit on, and a huge wicker basket. There were crystal flutes and fine silver and pretty plates to eat off of. Bucky had somehow pulled off outdoor tapas, and made it look classy, teasing them both with treats, and pulling out dish after dish until even Peggy pleaded for at least a break, she was so full.

And then there were pillows to lie on in the dappled sunlight, and Peggy giggled when she got a little cuddle from Bucky all to herself, before her giant lump of a husband could wake up from his food coma. He distributed kisses equally between them, teasing and caressing and at one point gently slipping off Peggy's shoes and rubbing her feet.

The afternoon passed too quickly, and was drawn out all at once. The weather had, for once, cooperated and it was warm without being muggy, with a soft breeze that played over all three of them.

Peggy dozed after a round of cream puffs, waiting for the sugar high to hit, and she laced her fingers with Bucky's. “You know you didn't have to go to all this trouble, right?”

“Since when was having two darlings to spoil any trouble?” Bucky fired back, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

“Gross,” she commented, and yawned.

“You're gross,” Bucky told her, and kissed her forehead while she gave in and took a little nap in the sunlight, full of good food and Steve close by and this new wonder in her life even closer.


	11. Chemistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another little amuse-bouche to hold us over until I get the Behemoth Sequel done :)

Steve laughed out loud and chased Bucky through the snow. Being alone somewhere didn't really happen in New York, but in the middle of a blizzard in Prospect Park, they could get reasonably close.

Bucky turned his head to peek behind him, saw Steve bearing down, and gave a silent yelp before turning and redoubling his speed.

Steve was faster, though – hah, take that, boyfriend who hates running – and caught up just in time to jump, grab a tree branch, and dump a ton of collected snow onto Bucky.

Some days I wish I could scream Bucky signed, giving Steve a dirty look.  at you .

Steve made the sign for the letter A, aimed it towards Bucky, and opened his mouth in a silent yell.

You think you're so cute _. _

I KNOW I'm cute Steve signed smugly, the language flowing easily. Why in God's name had he resisted learning this for so long? Especially after he had his baby to talk to?

His baby was busy rolling his eyes. And then, when Steve was distracted, jumping up and grabbing a higher branch to dump snow on Steve's head.

“ You little--” Steve sputtered, wiping his face, and Bucky was laughing at him, face bright red and eyes sparkling, and the chase was on again.


	12. The Bucky Barnes Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set somewhere in Take Apart Your Bones, not long after they finally start sucking face.

“Look at you,” Steve said, wrapping his hand around Bucky's wrist and rubbing the pulse-point with his thumb. “You're really getting some meat on your bones.”

Bucky made a face. “Not really.”

“Yeah, really,” Steve said, and pulled him a little closer so they could kiss. “It's not like hugging a coat rack anymore,” he teased.

“You deserve it, after how skinny you used to be,” Bucky shot back, but he was smiling, and he kissed Steve's cheek. “I'm all right, I guess.”

“You're amazing.” Steve kissed the base of his throat. “You're so amazing. Oh, Buck. When they brought me in to see you, when you first got here...”

“Shhh. You dwell too much, anyone ever tell you that?” Bucky cradled the back of Steve's head in his hand and let him press close. “This is me now, for better or worse. I'm not that wreck in the bed anymore.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded.

“That's my guy. You can pick for me, the next time I gotta eat,” Bucky teased him. “And get it for me, for that matter.” He stretched a little, painfully, and relaxed back into the bed and his boyfriend.

Steve laughed out loud. “Tati wrecked you, didn't she?”

“Uh huh. She says it's for my own good, but I have my suspicions.”

Steve gave him a healthy pinch. “She's got the patience of a saint, to deal with you.”

“It's so cute how you pretend I'm not the favorite,” Bucky informed him, and giggled when Steve pinched him again – and then kissed him, of course.

“I know way better than to pretend that. But someday everyone will figure out what a jerk you are,” Steve informed him, and Bucky laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. And then Sam'll be favorite.”

“That's fair,” Steve said, after a little consideration.

“Totally fair,” Bucky agreed, and drew Steve's face up, so they could kiss some more.

**Author's Note:**

> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


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